


When the Ball Drops

by marleymars



Series: Attachment Theory [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Porn, alcohol consumption, i am bad at titles ok, in which armin is smarter than i am which makes him really hard to write, ooc-ness maybe, sorry for the terrible title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marleymars/pseuds/marleymars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New  Years and all Armin wants is to be with Irwin, to make him happy, to keep him safe, and he could give a damn about what anybody else thinks about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t actually know how businesses work, ok. Sorry not sorry for any inaccuracies. I’m pretty good at sounding like I know what I’m talking about in any case. How else do you think I got this shiny high school diploma? *poses with diploma* Yeah. Me write good. 
> 
> This one really took me forever to write because I had two completely different ideas for the plot. I literally started writing it three weeks ago, and I couldn't make up my goshdurn mind.

The night air was the sort of icy cold that burned the lungs and numbed bare skin, but Armin was safe for now, seated comfortably in a well-used old armchair in his favorite coffee shop. It was the one Irwin had taken him to when they’d first met, and while the coffee was expensive it was worth it every once in a while. With his legs folded up on the cushion, a book open across his lap, and his coffee within easy reach on the table beside him, he couldn’t have been more at ease.

“You look like such a nerd.” He jumped, slapping the book shut and looking up at the grinning face of his best friend, Eren Jaeger.

“Hi, Eren,” he replied shortly as the brunet rounded the table and took a seat on the edge of it.

“Hey,” his friend said with a smirk, picking up and taking a sip of Armin’s coffee and making a face. “Eugh, damn, how much sugar is in this?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Eren pursed his lips, and the blond sighed, “I mean, do you really want me to answer that, or are you just asking dumb questions to annoy me?”

“The second one.”

“I thought so.”

Eren’s grin returned, and he pointed to the book Armin was cradling, “What’cha reading, anyway?”

“The Call of the Wild,” the blond said, caressing the leather binding almost reverently.

“Sounds sexy. What’s it about?”

“The life of a sled-dog during the Alaskan Gold Rush,” Armin said, “It’s one of my favorite books. I used to read it all the time when I was little.”

“Right. When your nerdiness was at its peak. I remember,” Eren said, reaching out for the volume and frowning when Armin clutched it to his chest. “I’m not gonna rip the pages out or anything. Lemme see it,” he said scornfully.

“I know, but…it’s old, Eren. I mean, it’s in really good condition, but it’s a first edition given to a friend of Jack London’s. He even signed it. See?” He opened the front cover, and pointed to the signature.

“Jeez, where the hell did you get something like that?” Eren asked, sounding genuinely impressed. “Did you rob a museum or something?”

“No,” Armin said, shutting the book again and smoothing his hand over the cover, “Irwin got it for me. For Christmas.” Even now the expense of the gift made him a little nervous about toting it around with him, but books were meant to be read. Irwin had spent a good few weeks before the holiday trying to get Armin to divulge what he wanted for Christmas, but the blond wouldn’t relent. Being spoiled wasn’t something Armin was comfortable with, but he’d decided he could make an exception for the book at least. He still had no idea how Irwin had known how much he would love it, but he’d at least made sure to thank him for it, _vigorously_.

“Damn. That dude must have it bad for you, huh?” Eren mused.

Armin only blushed, ducking his head in the hopes that the length of his hair would hide his reddened face and the small smile that tugged at his lips. He had made an executive decision to tell his two closest friends about his relationship with Irwin, and he was glad he’d done it. Keeping secrets from them wasn’t something he was fond of, and besides, if he hadn’t told somebody he might have exploded.

Their reactions at first had been both exactly what he’d expected, and what he’d been hoping against. Only Mikasa had even known who Irwin was right off the bat when Armin had started working for him, and Eren’s jaw had dropped when he’d learned that his best friend’s new employer-turned boyfriend was a multi-billionaire. Armin hadn’t even really considered Irwin’s net worth in weeks—money was the last thing he cared about in terms of a romantic relationship, and it was the furthest thing from his mind unless somebody else brought it up. Once the shock had subsided, Eren had ranted about how it was too soon, and Mikasa had quietly stated that she would not allow Armin to be taken advantage of. Even now they were still wary of the situation, but they had taken up the mantle of being supportive of whatever he decided to do.

Their concern always warmed something inside of him; that place deep down where he still couldn’t believe he had friends like them.

“He’s very considerate,” the blond finally agreed, feeling an entirely different kind of warmth when he thought of Irwin. It was hotter, burning away in his chest and his head, making it difficult to think straight. It made him want to see the older man, to feel his hands literally anywhere on his body right at that very instant.

“I’d have held out for something cooler than a book, though,” his friend said, breaking him out of this reverie, “Like a tiger. Dude, you should ask him for a tiger!”

“I’m not gonna ask him for a tiger,” Armin said, hoping Eren wouldn’t take note of his deepening blush.

“Can you ask him to get _me_ a tiger?” Armin sighed again, and snatched his coffee out of Eren’s hand. He was relatively certain that if he _did_ ask Irwin for a tiger that he’d wake up one morning to find a large black and orange cat snuggling with Romulus. The man was brilliant, but sometimes he took things a little too seriously.

“I’m just glad he didn’t go overboard. When he found out he’d missed my birthday he offered to buy me a new car. And I told him he didn’t need to get me anything, but he didn’t listen, obviously,” he said with fondness rather than irritation.

“You turned down a new car? Jeez, I’d have taken it off your hands.”

“ _Eren_.”

“I’m serious. Let me date this guy, I’ll let him buy me anything he wants,” the brunet teased, and Armin retaliated with a glare. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’m kidding. I know you’re not in it for the money.”

With as much grace as he could manage, Armin decided to change the subject. “So, how’s school going?”

Eren made a face. “Oh, God, don’t ask. They have us building scale models, and you know how fucking clumsy I am.”

“I take it it’s not going well?” Armin said, hiding his grin behind the rim of his cup.

“I’ve had to start over on my current project three times,” Eren pouted, “Architecture is hard.”

“Did you think it would be easy?”

The brunet shrugged. “A man can dream, can’t he?” They spent a little more time chatting, but Armin knew the minutes were limited. He was glad for any chances to catch up with his friends; they were more like family than anything else, closer to him even than his real family. Eren hugged him tight before he left, promising to call him sometime that week. The holidays had been so busy for all of them, and frankly Armin was glad it was all over. The next few months would be relatively slow workwise, which meant he’d have more time on his hands for Eren and Mikasa, not to mention Irwin.

When he left the coffee shop he headed straight for the CEO’s penthouse. Surely Irwin had to be home from work by now, on a Friday night no less. Not being able to spend as much time with him as he’d have liked to had been the worst part of this season, particularly because their relationship was still so new. Armin would have been happy to just sit and stare at him all day long, but responsibility and life in general dictated that he also work and eat and bathe.

“Daddy’s home!” he called as he entered the penthouse and was greeted almost instantly by a hundred and forty pounds of happy mastiff. Since Irwin had said rather directly that he didn’t like being referred to as such, Armin had taken it upon himself to adopt Romulus as his unofficial son. Mostly he did it to annoy the older man, who was half-convinced that the blond was going to run away with his dog someday, but he also did it because Romulus had become unequivocally attached to him. “Up, up!” he said, patting his shoulders and bracing himself as the dog jumped up and locked his paws against him in an unsteady canine embrace. “You miss me, huh? Yeah, you love me the most? I know, you’re a good boy.”

“Disgusting.” Armin blanched at the sound of the slow, drawling voice, and glanced around the Romulus’ head to glare at the speaker. He couldn’t be sure whether Levi was referring to him or the dog, or both. “I don’t know how you can stand all this dog hair, Irwin,” he said, turning from the front hall and disappearing from view. Romulus returned to the floor with a thud, and Armin peeled off his coat and kicked off his shoes.

They were in the living room, drinking coffee and examining a daunting amount of paperwork, all spread out over the massive coffee table. Irwin was on the sofa—Levi refused to sit there ever again—and Armin made a beeline for him. “Hi,” he said as he settled next to the older man, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Hm,” Irwin hummed distractedly in response. Armin rested his head on a broad shoulder, and let his eyes skim over the piece of paper in the CEO’s hand—something about the research and development of new defense technologies. It was true that Armin now understood the older man’s job a little better; he had done extensive research on the subject, but he still didn’t find the business aspects of it all that exciting. Titan Enterprises focused mainly on technological research, but Irwin had expanded upon that since taking over the company in the wake of his father’s death. He now had a hand in pharmaceutical development, as well as a chain of hotels and casinos based in Vegas, Atlantic City, and Connecticut. There were other smaller projects he funded on the side, charities he paid into and the like, but Armin had a feeling that this impromptu meeting in his home had little to do with any of that.

“What’s all this?” he asked, though he had a pretty good idea already.

“You recall our corporate spy?” Irwin said, frowning at something on his report.

“Yeah,” Armin said with a nod.

“The little shit is getting sneakier,” Levi interjected with a directionless glare, “I’m finding more and more shit that they’ve poked their nose into, but they’re always a step ahead of me.” He sounded coldly furious which normally would have amused Armin, but not this time. Not when Irwin was also so obviously out of sorts about the whole thing.

“This is getting really serious then,” he noted with a worried frown.

“Yes,” Irwin said, “And the most disturbing thing about it is that they haven’t made any overt moves yet. None of our research has sprung up anywhere else, which makes me think that they’re planning something on a larger scale that’s going to completely blindside us.” He sighed raggedly and dropped the report, letting it flutter gently down to the table as he leaned back and finally turned to properly welcome the younger man. “What do you have on your head?” he asked, raising his brow as Armin reached up and patted his hat.

“Oh, my penguin hat?” he said with a grin despite Irwin’s grim words, “Isn’t it great? Mikasa got it for me for Christmas.” The little knit cap bore the face and body of a penguin, complete with little flappy wings and webbed feet on the end of long tassels.

“It’s certainly _something_ ,” Irwin agreed.

“Don’t be jealous of my great taste in hats, Irwin,” Armin said.

“Yes. Jealousy. That’s it,” the older man said dryly. Armin kissed him again, unmindful of Levi’s ill-disguised noise of repulsion.

“If you don’t mind,” the diminutive and irritable man said, “We still have a lot to go over, Irwin.”

“Can I help?” Armin asked hopefully. It was either that or clear out, and he didn’t want to leave already, or have to go watch television in Irwin’s room until he came to bed. And he felt especially privileged and useless, being party to the secrets of such a huge corporation without actually contributing anything to it. That Irwin trusted him to see these things at all made him happier than he could even describe, but the knowledge was pointless if he couldn’t do anything to assist.

“You wouldn’t even understand what you were looking at,” Levi said. “We’re searching for discrepancies that you wouldn’t notice unless you possessed as intricate an understanding of this company as we’ve built up over more than a decade.” 

“Oh, bite me, Levi,” the blond said, reaching for a stack of paper, “Just tell me what to look for.”

“It won’t be monetary,” Irwin told him, much to Levi’s annoyance, “They haven’t been stealing money that we’re aware of, just information on where the money is going. Look for anything that doesn’t add up; requisitions that were never processed, or orders that don’t appear to have a definite origin.”

Even though he was sure he was just being humored Armin set about the task eagerly. All too quickly, however, he realized his mistake. Corporate jargon abounded, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t understand it or anything; it was just incredibly tedious to read, like the terms and conditions of every website ever. He’d have thought that learning the inner workings of a multi-billion dollar company would have at least been a little interesting, but this wasn’t anything technical like how to build a bomb-diffusing laser beam—if those existed—or something. It was all legal and formal and utterly dull. _Who the hell would want to steal any of this?_ Whoever the thief was, they must have been some sort of robot to be able to rifle through this nonsense without falling asleep.

“Irwin,” he groaned after a little less than an hour, “How can you stand reading this stuff all day?”

“I told you, you wouldn’t be able to comprehend any of it,” Levi drawled with that flat expression. The fact that he wasn’t being smug about it was somehow more annoying than if he’d been gloating.

“I ‘comprehend’ it just fine,” Armin told him, waving the stack of documents in his hand in frustration, “It’s just _mind-numbing_. Don’t laugh at me, Irwin. I’m going cross-eyed over here.”

The older man corrected his grin, but it was too late. “You wanted to help,” he said in the face of the young man’s irate glare.

“Whatever. I’m gonna make something to eat,” the blond said, jumping to his feet and snatching up a stack of documents to take with him into the kitchen. “They’re both jerks,” he said to Romulus, who followed at his heels knowing Armin had a tendency to “accidentally” drop tasty things to eat on the floor. The dog quirked his head at him, and Armin dug a biscuit out of the box of dog treats on the counter for him.

Irwin’s kitchen was huge, but the blond had been sorely disappointed to find that it was grossly under-stocked. His boyfriend didn’t eat more than he needed to in order to survive, which flabbergasted Armin who would eat almost anything and everything edible that was placed in front of his face. Growing up with not always enough to eat probably had something to do with that. He simply didn’t see any reason to let his stomach remain empty when he could now afford to keep it full.

At least Irwin had taken the hint after having to listen to Armin complain several times about him not having any food in the house. There were frozen pizzas in the freezer, and he stuck one in the oven then hopped up on the counter to wait for it to cook. As he swung his legs he reached for the pile of reports and began to peruse them again. _Boring, boring, boring_ , he thought, humming along to the mantra. He flipped a page. Numbers. Some sort of cost projection for the development of a new type of tactical distraction device for police SWAT teams. There were columns of numbers, like an Excel spreadsheet. He’d made enough of those in high school to be able to follow the figures across the page—Irwin had said that they weren’t looking for anything monetary, but at least the numbers were something he could scan without his brain shorting out.

There was something strange, though. He held the paper up to his face and slowly examined each cell, hoping that he’d simply read the numbers wrong. “Holy shit.” He slid down off the counter, brow rutted as he studied the values. _That can’t be right,_ he thought. There was no name on the document, no information as to who had compiled this data, which just lent suspicion to the whole thing. “Irwin,” he said as his feet carried him back into the living room.

“What is it?” He looked up from the paper to see that both Levi and Irwin were staring at him.

“I think I found something.”

“Like hell you did,” Levi snorted. In response, Armin marched across the room and shoved the paper underneath his nose.

“Look at those numbers,” he said, “Does any of that make sense to you?”

Scowling, Levi took the sheet of paper and scanned it. His glowering deepened as his eyes ran down the columns, until he finally sighed and said, “This is nothing. Just a decimal error, though it _should_ have been caught by those slouches in accounting.”

“What does it say?” Irwin asked in spite of Levi’s easy dismissal.

“The numbers don’t add up from the cost-analysis to the actual expenditures,” Armin said, feeling a surge of pride in himself as he turned to face his boyfriend, “It’s only in increments, and a few misplaced decimal points could have been passed off as typos, but—,”

“It’s Dawk, Irwin. I told you that lackadaisical shit couldn’t hold an entire department together on his own,” Levi interjected, speaking over Armin as if he hadn’t even been talking.

“He can’t possibly look over every single report that comes in and out of accounting,” Irwin countered.

“Well then what the hell is he doing down there all day? Jerking off in his office? I’d certainly hope so, because if he doesn’t have a better reason for all his sloppy maintenance then he really is just as incompetent as I always tell him he is,” Levi said, looking increasingly eager to strangle something with each word.

“Well, if he’s that bad at his job, then how do you know somebody isn’t stealing money from you?” Armin snapped at him. He didn’t like being told that he was wrong, particularly when the opposing party didn’t have any actual proof that he was.

“Levi exaggerates,” Irwin said with a sigh, “Dawk isn’t incompetent, you just don’t like him because Zacklay does. And Armin, it _could_ just be a typing error. We’ll need to look into it further, though. We don’t know for certain whether it’s a blunder or not.”

“Even if it isn’t an error, and somebody is stealing money, the missing numbers here amount to little more than chump change,” Levi said, leaning forward to drop the spreadsheet onto the coffee table. 

“But…what do you think it would mean if they were only stealing a little bit of money?” Armin asked.

“It’s only a ‘little bit’ by our standards,” Levi told him, “Combine a few reports like this, and it adds up to hundreds of thousands of dollars. But the brat raises a good question, Irwin. Theoretically, of course, it sounds like embezzlement, but on such a small scale…”

Irwin remained silent, but he looked about as troubled as Armin had ever seen him look. It made the blond want to comfort him, but not while Levi was ready and waiting with some snide remark.

“If it’s not just a mistake, and if you find anything else Levi…We can’t afford this,” he finally said, and Armin had a feeling he didn’t just mean financially.

“No shit,” Levi muttered as he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m gonna skin Dawk alive.”

They kept mentioning that name. “Who’s Dawk?” Armin asked.

“My chief financial officer,” Irwin said at the same time that Levi replied, “A pandering, sycophantic idiot. He’s the board’s pet financial expert, and he has them eating out of his hand. What? It’s true and you know it, Irwin.”

“You don’t like anybody, do you?” Armin said, catching the smile that Irwin quickly repressed as Levi pointedly ignored the question.

“We need to resolve this quickly, in any case,” Levi said. “I’m going to start compiling these reports to see if there’s anything else suspicious going on in accounting. _If_ the thief is stealing money, and if they’re as smart as they think they are, they’ll only have done it here and there in order to avoid suspicion. And if I find anything else fishy, Dawk is going to have a lot to answer for. Like why he’s not keeping his fucking books in order.”

“Would that mean that the spy works in accounting?” Armin asked.

“Not necessarily,” Irwin told him, “Or it could mean that there’s more than one spy, and they’re either totally unrelated to the one who’s stealing information, or in cahoots with them.” It struck Armin particularly hard then just how serious a situation this was. Not that he hadn’t known before, but the gravity of the situation suddenly seemed to increase disproportionately. Just how much trouble could this whole affair cause Titan Enterprises, and consequently, his boyfriend? He and Levi were essentially trying to figure this whole debacle out on their own with very limited assistance. They didn’t know who they could trust, and it had to be putting a strain on the both of them. No wonder the accounting discrepancies had gone unnoticed. They were working themselves ragged over this.

“This takes priority over everything,” Levi said, “I’m going to find out who’s behind this, Irwin, even if it was just some bumbling intern who doesn’t know how to use a fucking keyboard.”

“Priority? Does that mean I don’t have to attend that preposterous waste of time tomorrow night?” Irwin asked, looking rueful.

 “Don’t be an idiot. If you don’t go it’ll cause more trouble for us. You know Zacklay is expecting you.” Armin knew he was getting better at reading his boyfriend’s sometimes difficult to decipher facial expressions, but he had to be imagining the look of petulance he saw there now.

“What are you guys talking about?” the blond asked, feeling slightly out of the loop.

Irwin sighed and buried his face in his hands, leaving Levi to answer for him. “Zacklay is the head of our board of directors. He’s usually the least annoying of them as well, but he throws these parties that would bore a man to tears, and attendance is all but mandatory.” He also looked less than pleased at the prospect, but where Levi was concerned that wasn’t saying much.

“Tomorrow is New Year’s, though,” Armin said, feeling a wash of disappointment. He hadn’t made any concrete plans, but he’d assumed that he and Irwin would spend the night together. In light of the previous half-an-hour he knew that his personal expectations didn’t exactly take precedence, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. _I guess I’ll just wind up boozing around with Eren and Mikasa again,_ he thought with concern for his stomach. He was going to wind up vomiting in an alley somewhere while Eren picked fights with random strangers and Mikasa stood by shaking her head.

“Don’t pout, brat. You’re not missing anything,” Levi assured him. “Your boyfriend is exceptionally dull company during celebrations.”

 _I wasn’t pouting_ , Armin thought as Levi packed up his documents, muttering under his breath about being outclassed by a damn snot-nosed kid. At least the blond had accomplished that much, and he was feeling a little smug about it until the smoke-detector went off, alerting him to the fact that he’d completely forgotten about his pizza. It was blackened to a crisp, and he mournfully slid it into the trash compactor as his stomach rumbled longingly.

When he risked a glance back into the living room he saw that Levi had finally gone, and Irwin was standing by the window staring contemplatively out at the cityscape beyond. For a moment Armin just watched him, admiring his profile and the way his shirt fit so nicely around his sculpted body, and thinking about how much fun it would be to muss up his fastidiously combed-back hair. _He’s mine_ , he thought. Maybe that sounded possessive and juvenile, but Irwin _was_ his. Not in the sense that he owned him or anything; just in the sense that he was the only one Armin wanted.

“Are you okay?” he heard himself asking. Irwin glanced over at him, and then slowly unfurled his arm, holding it out to him. Armin went to him willingly, letting himself be pulled in close and wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist.

“I can’t believe neither of us caught that discrepancy,” he said, “I think even Levi was impressed with you for finding it.” It hadn’t seemed that way, but the blond took the words at face value. If Irwin was difficult to read, then Levi was impossible, if only due to his contradictory nature.

“Is that a thank you?” Armin said, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the older man’s chest.

“Yes. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” Irwin’s chest expanded as he heaved a quiet laugh, and Armin relished the closeness. More than anything he loved to just be held, because there was nothing more reassuring to him than being in the arms of somebody he cared about, somebody who he knew would never do anything to hurt him.

“Hey,” he said, pulling back just enough to be able to look up and meet Irwin's eye. “That party you’re going to…”

“You don’t want to come, Armin,” the Irwin said, sliding his hands up to rest on either side of the younger man’s neck, “Believe me. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”

The blond pursed his lips and tried to look as sullen as possible as he raised a hand to lay over one of Irwin’s. “I could keep you company. I tell some pretty great jokes when I’m drunk.”

“Is that so?” Irwin said with the slightest of grins. It quickly devolved back into his usual, calm expression as he loosed a sigh and shook his head. “You would either be bored out of your mind, or driven into a righteous, liberal fury. The types of people who attend these parties are so completely disconnected from the rest of society that it’s laughable. They’re all obscenely rich, and they essentially spend the entire night standing around and congratulating one another on how rich they are.”

“I dunno,” Armin sighed, “That sounds like a barrel of laughs to me, but if you say so…” He shrugged, not bothering to hide his disappointment. A thought came to him, one that he had been mulling over more and more of late, and he said, “This isn’t because you don’t want people to know about us, is it?”

Irwin blinked, and it was the only hint he gave that he was surprised by the question. “Not entirely,” he said, stroking Armin’s jaw with a thumb, “There are rumors enough about me in these circles that most people are at least generally aware of my proclivities. I don’t particularly care overmuch about _that_. What I do care about is keeping you out of the line of fire, so to speak.”

“I think I could handle it,” Armin responded dryly, “I’ve been called names before, Irwin. I’m not a child.”

“It isn’t about name-calling,” the older man said, “While there’s a certain level of discretion amongst my…colleagues, there’s always a chance word about you will get out. You wouldn’t fully understand it if you’ve never been under the scrutiny of the media before, but it can be pretty vicious.”

“Well, is there gonna be any media actually there?” Armin asked.

“There isn’t usually.”

“So what’s the problem?” He allowed the slightest edge of annoyance into his tone, and Irwin sighed.

“In this world, if it came to light that I was dating someone nearly thirteen years my junior and a man no less, and the media got ahold of it, what do you think they would do with that information?”

“What they always do,” Armin answered reluctantly. He’d thought about that before, when he would inadvertently look up at the television and see his boyfriend on the screen. And even before that, when he’d first learned who Irwin really was. Back then he had been terrified of the prospect of ending up on some tabloid cover. Ever since they’d started seeing one another he had been watching those dreary financial shows more and more often; Irwin wasn’t famous on the level of Donald Trump or Bill Gates, but he was getting there, and so were Titan Enterprises. Even the fiscal broadcasting networks weren’t immune to the draw of “scandal,” so he could understand that the CEO would want to protect him, but how long could that really last?

The older man bent to kiss him, the soft press of his lips more an attempt to assuage his discontent than a romantic advance. Armin pushed up into it anyway, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand and whining when they broke apart. “You’ll be much happier if you go out with your friends tomorrow,” Irwin assured him. All things considered, Armin thought that he was probably right.

Still…

“You wouldn’t have to tell people who I really am,” he said, tracing his fingers up and down Irwin’s arms.

“Oh, and who would I tell them you are then?”

“I dunno. The Crown Prince of Sweden. The heir to Eggo Waffle fortune. Just make something up,” Armin said with a shrug and a smirk.

Irwin frowned. “I don’t want to subject you to these people, Armin,” he said. “You’re better than they are.” The compliment warmed that place inside his chest where his affections for Irwin were steadily increasing day by day. It also made him all the more determined not to be left out.

“Fine,” he sighed, dropping his eyes and staring forlornly off to the side. “If you really don’t want me there…”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you there.”

“I know,” Armin said, pouting just enough so as not to seem overdramatic, “I just wanted to spend time with you. We could have watched the fireworks from the window here.” For a long moment Irwin was silent, so long that the blond finally felt the need to look up and see what was wrong. “Irwin?” he said when he caught the cynical look he was being given.

“You do realize that I can see through this whole sad puppy-dog act of yours, yes?” the older man said, grinning ever so slightly at the aggrieved noise that followed. “A for effort, though.”

“God, you’re such a pain in the ass. Why can’t you just fall for my tricks like a normal boyfriend?” Armin grumbled, shoving him away and stalking back toward the kitchen.

“Still, if it’s that important to you,” Irwin said, forestalling his retreat, “I’ll take you with me.” He sounded highly reluctant, but Armin didn’t care, particularly after what he said next. “But I’m not going to make up some ridiculous lie to explain you away. If you’re there, you’re there with me.”

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he said, feigning smugness as he kissed his boyfriend gratefully on the cheek. In truth he knew it was the other way around; he wanted to be by Irwin’s side in any capacity that he could. They had never gone out and done anything together before and it wouldn’t have mattered to him what guise he might have had to assume. As long as he could be there, that was good enough for him, and if Irwin wanted him there as his boyfriend, well…That warm place inside of him swelled as he pulled Irwin’s mouth down to his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I mentioned that there were two possible versions of this particular part of the story, and in the end I went with this one just so I could write drunk Armin telling horrible jokes. That is literally the only reason. I had to rewrite chunks of this here and there though, because I’m dumb and I write dumb things that I don’t realize are totally dumb until I read them again the next day. 
> 
> That being said, there is also a lot of porn in this chapter. It’s mostly fluffy porn instead of hot-damn-son porn like the last one, though. If fluffy porn is even a thing. 
> 
> (All of Armin’s jokes are puns I found on tumblr and the various other reaches of the interwebs. I am not near clever enough to have thought of these wonderful witticisms. Idk are you supposed to source jokes? I should ask my composition teacher.)

It was eight PM and the clock was ticking. Armin had been loitering in Irwin’s bathroom doorway for the past hour and a half watching the older man prepping for this fancy soiree. By comparison, Armin had finished getting ready in about a half an hour even though he’d spent the whole day grooming dogs and had been damp and disgusting before jumping into the tail end of Irwin’s shower. To his credit, the older man looked reserved and unaffected, but the blond still got the feeling that he was dragging his feet. “You look nice,” he said. Irwin paused as he stepped through the threshold from the bedroom into the master bathroom, and gave him a long look. “What?”

“You’re absolutely certain that you want to come along?” Irwin asked him rather gravely. The tone came off comical rather than foreboding, however.  

“How many times do we have to go over this? You already said I could, so I’m coming whether you like it or not,” he said, trailing behind the older man and swiping an imaginary speck of dust from the back of his tuxedo jacket. In truth, he didn’t just look “nice.” The way he looked wrapped up in all that expensive black fabric made Armin want nothing more than to tear it all off of him, but they were almost ready to go, so it was a bit too late for that. Instead, he settled for slipping his arms around the older man’s waist as he adjusted his tie in the bathroom mirror. “You smell good, too.” _God, can we just skip the party and I’ll lick you all over instead?_

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Irwin said over his shoulder, and Armin could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. The blond stood back as the older man turned and reached up to comb a few stray locks of blond hair back behind his ear. “You are stunning.” Armin squirmed, flushing and averting his gaze to focus on his shoes. The first time Irwin had told him he was beautiful had been during sex. Initially had thought it was the heat of the moment loosening the older man’s tongue, but he had been both pleased and mortified to learn that Irwin could be rather free with compliments. When Armin looked down at his rented vest and slacks, he didn’t think he looked like anything special.

Irwin stroked the back of his hand down the side of Armin’s face, and the blond had to restrain himself from jumping him right then and there. Thankfully the door buzzer sounded at that very moment, and he spun on his heel and rushed out of the bathroom, grateful for the reprieve. Being so close to Irwin in his fancy threads, well…it did things to him.

“Who is it?” he asked into the intercom, knowing full well who was on the other end.

“Let me in you little twat,” was Levi’s reply. By now Armin was used to his insults, more so because he wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of them than anything else. He had listened to Levi insult several people, including Irwin, his assistant Bertholdt, and one very flustered telemarketer for whom Levi had torn a new asshole over the phone.

“Irwin, you’d better hurry up, Levi’s here!” Armin shouted through the penthouse. Romulus perked his ears up, watching the blond from where he lay on the floor. He had been moping ever since Armin had arrived, as if sensing the impending outing that would not include him. “We’re going working,” the blond told him, “No doggies allowed.” No big doggies, anyway. It wasn’t fair that Romulus couldn’t go places just because some people thought he looked scary. “People are dumb. Sorry pal.”

Armin was sitting on the floor, smoothing his hand along the top of the mastiff’s head when Levi finally walked through the door. To his enormous astonishment there was somebody with him; a woman with shoulder length red hair and a shimmery dress, and who was—shockingly—even more petite than Levi himself. With a massive effort to keep from gaping, Armin jumped to his feet and waited to be introduced.

“Levi,” he said.

“Arlert,” came the drawling response. The woman on Levi’s arm sighed and rolled her eyes, then she reached out to shake Armin’s hand.

“You must be Armin. I’m Levi’s friend, Petra. He told me about you, and I’m sure most of what he said isn’t true.”

For a moment Armin just held her outstretched hand and stared. Then he said, “Levi has friends?”  The words came tumbling uncontrollably out of his mouth, much to his horror. He was really getting far too comfortable with taking the piss out of the miniature COO. Thankfully Petra just laughed, though Levi gave him a look that promised a swift and bloody end.

“Is Irwin ready to go, or is he going to keep us all waiting?” Levi said, tone almost _too_ bland. He was just as on edge as Irwin was, then. What about this party could possibly be so awful that two of the most stoic men Armin had ever met were completely out of sorts over it?

There was a rustling as Irwin came up behind him, swinging his coat over his shoulders. Armin looked around just as the older man placed a hand on his back and asked if he was ready to leave. “I’ve _been_ ready,” the blond replied. Irwin greeted Petra with one of those European air-kisses-on-the-cheek, which Armin took to mean that they already knew one another, and that Petra was in the loop, so to speak.

Down in the lobby of Irwin’s building, Armin could see a limousine idling by the curb through the big glass windows. He had never ridden in a limo before, and Petra seemed to sense his eagerness while they waited for Irwin and Levi to finish speaking to the doorman. “Excited?” she asked with an amused expression.

“I guess,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, as if riding in a limo was no big deal.

“You don’t seem nervous at all,” she noted as he leaned casually against the wall.

“Should I be?”

“Nah. I’m fairly certain nobody is going to bother you. Levi said Irwin was worried about that, but I’m doubtful that anybody would do anything to cross him,” she explained, patting him amicably on the shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Armin asked.

Before she could clarify Irwin appeared beside them, straightening his tie and looking resigned to his fate. “Time to get this over with,” he said, and Armin allowed himself to be guided out into the cold New Year’s night.

“Wow, there really is a bar in here,” Armin said once he’d settled down into the plush limo seat. There were no visible seatbelts though, which made him nervous enough to wedge himself against Irwin’s side. “You’re my human shield,” he explained when the older arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I have something to drink?”

“Getting started early, brat?” Levi asked with a snort, which transformed almost immediately into a thoughtful expression as he said, “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

“ _Levi_ ,” Petra sighed with a frown.

“Do you really expect me to face the yuppies sober?” he said as he poured himself a glass of something foul-smelling. Armin chose something tamer, sipping cautiously in comparison to the way Levi knocked his drink back in one go and then poured another. “I should have brought my flask,” he said, grimacing slightly when Petra elbowed him.

Being stuck in a cramped space with an increasingly inebriated Levi wasn’t exactly high on Armin’s list of enjoyable activities. The limo sure was fancy, though. On a night like tonight when the temperature dropped into the twenties, he certainly appreciated the heated seats. And most of all, he appreciated that he was within reach of the radio so that he could annoy Levi with fast, electronic dance music. Before the little man could protest, Petra leaned across a surprised Irwin’s lap and grabbed Armin’s shoulder. “I love this one!” she cried as she shook him bodily. Armin took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at Levi’s glaring expression, and there was nothing the little man could do about it. Irwin didn’t seem to have a preference when it came to music, so he allowed the blond to fiddle with the radio as he pleased.

Outside the city blurred by, and they were soon on the highway. For the first time since the previous night Armin began to feel the hounding fingers of apprehension curling into his stomach. Irwin’s normally passive, collected expression had a grave set to it, and Levi looked like he actually might kill somebody tonight, rather than just appearing as though he _wanted_ to. _Well, this is why I’m here_ , he thought. He’d wanted to come to be with Irwin, so as far as he was concerned it was his job to put the older man at ease. He nuzzled his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder, and was rewarded with a slight softening of his severe countenance. “Stop looking so worried,” he murmured into the older man’s ear, giving his bicep a comforting squeeze. Irwin put an arm around him in response, and did manage to look a bit less unsettled. For a while, anyway.

Twenty minutes later they were pulling off the highway, and onto a lonely back road. There didn’t seem to be any houses around if the impenetrable darkness around the limo was any indication. “You didn’t bring us out here to kill us, did you?” Armin asked, hoping to alleviate some of the rising tension in the car. Only Petra laughed, and this time it sounded somewhat forced. Irwin was feeling stiff beside him, and even Armin’s hand kneading into the back of his neck couldn’t alleviate the strain there.

The next turn they took was up a long, narrow drive preceded by an open, wrought iron gate. Their driver was waved through by a man in a suit who spoke into his sleeve like he was some sort of secret agent. The road was flanked on either side by large, bare trees that would have formed a tunnel when in full bloom. And there were lamps now, casting a bright illumination through the windows that made Armin’s eyes water. “Wow,” he mouthed, blinking when he saw what was waiting for them at the end of the lane. He thought he heard Levi make a sarcastic noise from the seat behind him, but he ignored it. The mansion looming ahead looked like something out of the movies. “Is this Wayne Manor?” he asked, “Is Zacklay Batman?”

“He wishes,” Petra smirked.

There were cars now, and other limos, each fancier than the last, pulling around a large rotary up to the front entrance where their owners climbed out and handed the keys to a valet. A frickin’ _valet_. Jean had worked as a valet once, and he’d hated it with every fiber of his being. Armin made a mental note to remind Irwin to tip the red-vested kid well, even if they weren’t going to use his services. The poor guy was looking harried and miserable as they climbed out of the limo, but before Armin could say anything he was being swept in through a pair of intricate doors where somebody was waiting to take their coats.

 “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he whispered to Irwin before the older man could advance past the foyer. When the CEO gave him a questioning look, he just nodded his head to a side door and squeezed his hand imploringly.

“You two go on in,” Irwin said, and Levi proceeded out without preamble, followed quickly by a curious-looking Petra.

Drawing a look from the coat-check guy, Armin pushed his boyfriend through the door which lead to a small, decorative but empty sitting room. “What’s the matter?” Irwin asked, and then added a bit too quickly, “If you’re nervous we could leave…”

“ _I’m_ not nervous,” Armin lied as he shut the door behind himself, “But _you_ look miserable and we only just got here.”

“I’m not one for frivolity,” Irwin said.

“I know, but it can’t be _that_ bad. I mean, they’re not gonna sacrifice a poor person to the God of Money to ensure a fruitful business quarter. Are they?” He gasped in mock horror, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest, “That’s not why you brought _me_ , is it?” That finally got a rise out of the older man who heaved one of his barely audible laughs. When he reached over to cup the back of Armin’s head, the blond leaned up willingly into the kiss. “You’re so tense,” he murmured against Irwin’s mouth, pulling back just far enough that their lips continued to brush together as he spoke.

Irwin looked like he might have brushed the comment off, but his eyes widened and his words died in his throat as he felt Armin’s hand come sliding slowly down his stomach. The blond kissed him again, submitting as Irwin probed his mouth with a hungry tongue. He made no protests, no objections that they were in a public place, or that there were people not five feet away from where they stood. They were hidden by wooden walls and doors, and besides, it wasn’t like Armin was planning on letting Irwin fuck him right here.  

_Later_ , he thought. There was plenty of time for that later. He willed himself not to get aroused, even as he squeezed Irwin’s already hardening erection through the front of his slacks. It gave him a little thrill that he was about to do this sort of thing here of all places, with Irwin’s colleagues just yards away. They would never know that Armin was carefully opening the front of his tuxedo slacks, or kneeling down to kiss the older man’s cock through the fabric of his briefs.

A groan emanated from somewhere above him as he slowly eased the throbbing member from its confines. Armin took a certain measure of pride in the fact that he was able to elicit such noises from such a stubborn, composed man. He worked his tongue underneath the edge of the swollen head, and at the same time tucked his free hand back into the constricting underwear to knead at Irwin’s balls. A hand curled into his hair, pulling it back from his face, but he wasn’t forcefully urged on. He hated being rushed and having his head pushed down until he was choking, which Irwin thankfully never did.

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t been working on taking him deeper. He teased first though—they likely didn’t have long, but Irwin would come faster if he worked up to it a little. When he licked his palm, he made sure to sit back and let the older man watch the way he slowly coated his hand with saliva. Irwin never took his eyes away, not even when the blond bent back down into his lap, stroking him slowly with a now slickened hand. Armin squeezed as he trailed his fingers up the shaft, kissing and sucking leisurely at the base as he worked the head with his thumb. He could sense the tensing of muscle beneath his touch, knew that already his boyfriend was growing impatient. Begging was out of the question, but as he dragged his mouth up the length of him, he heard Irwin whisper his name.

“Armin,” he said. That was as close to pleading as he was going to get. There was a note of need in the syllables, but Armin took his sweet time about it, circling his tongue around the head and lapping up the precum that was beading there. Dimly he was aware of the fact that Irwin’s breath had quickened, and he took that as his cue.

“I thought you had better self-control than this,” the blond stated playfully. As Irwin opened his mouth to retort, Armin opened his to swallow him.

The cock was heavy on his tongue, but it tasted clean, smelled like Irwin’s soap, and he pulled it down, down as far as he could. There was no way he could take the whole thing, not unless he had a death wish, but he was at least able to fit some of it into his throat. It was too thick for much more than that, but Irwin didn’t seem to mind. Armin could feel his hands in his hair again, and he obliged when the older man made to tilt his back. He wanted a better view, so the blond wound up sucking his dick with his head angled back, swallowing thickly around him and laving his tongue around the pulsing organ to the best of his ability.

He looked up to see Irwin watching him and he pulled back, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks under the intensity of the older man’s scrutiny. Just as he was about to pull off and ask his boyfriend if he was enjoying himself, he felt him tensing, felt the grip on his hair tightening, and he knew Irwin was getting close. Well, in that case. He righted himself, obscuring the view as he gripped the base and began pumping him quickly in time with the motion of his mouth. One particularly hard suck and a brief hint of teeth, and he heard a long, drawn out groan, and pulled the cock back into his throat, quickly swallowing the rush of warmth that flooded his mouth.

When he was sure he’d gotten every last drop and that Irwin’s expensive clothing wouldn’t be ruined, he pulled away, sitting up and wiping his thumb around his mouth to make sure nothing had escaped. Irwin was still staring at him, expression heated and predatory. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought you along,” he said after a long moment, and Armin snorted as he was pulled up to his feet.

“At least now you have something to think about if somebody corners you with some boring conversation,” the blond countered.

“Yes, and there’s no chance of _that_ backfiring.”

“Hey, show some gratitude. I just sucked your dick, and now I have to go into a party with penis-breath. Which of us has it worse?” Irwin closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, gathering himself before informing Armin that there was a bathroom nearby where he could freshen up. Once he was situated he looked a lot less perturbed than he had since the night before, so Armin considered it all a job well done.

“Brace yourself,” Irwin murmured as they walked through the door. It _really_ couldn’t be _that_ bad. Could it?

X

Armin’s foremost worry had been that when he was introduced as Irwin’s boyfriend, people would respond in some objectionable manner. While it was true that he saw a few sneers out of the corners of his eyes, face to face nobody seemed to want to cause a scene. That was the thing about rich people, he thought—they would do anything to save face.

When speaking to a man like Irwin smith, that seemed to be doubly true. He was both puzzled and amused by the way that people quailed and pandered to his boyfriend as if they were afraid of him. One woman briefly looked like she might burst into tears when he stopped to greet her. Armin shook her hand, and watched as she preened and wilted under his boyfriend’s gaze. She seemed particularly upset to learn that Irwin was in a relationship, as if she had been hoping to snag him for herself. That didn’t really surprise Armin overmuch. What bothered him more than her reaction was the way Irwin himself was behaving.

_I haven’t gotten to see him socialize before_ , he thought. When he saw Irwin on television there was always somebody going on about what a ruthless businessman he was. They said he struck fear into the hearts of his rivals, and Armin had thought it was all just the media blowing things out of proportion. Watching Irwin’s icy interactions with his peers, he realized that those characterizations might have been more than a little on point.

There was barely time for him to appreciate the interior of the building he now found himself in. Eren would have been better able to name the finer nuances of structure and style, but to Armin it all just looked over the top fancy-shmancy, like the ballroom from _Titanic_. There was elegant classical music behind played by a live ensemble in one room, and it carried throughout the ground floor where the party was being held. Aside from that, the mansion also smelled fantastic. There was a kitchen somewhere, and more importantly food. Very expensive, very well-prepared food, and he was having trouble not craning his neck to look through each doorway for the source.

“If you’re hungry then go get something to eat,” Irwin said once he noticed this behavior.

“Um, later,” Armin said reluctantly. He was feeling some of his old childhood shyness coming back to bite him, surrounded by so many people whose mannerisms and lifestyles were so alien to him. A lot of them were speaking in the affected, elegant tones of the extremely educated, and he was afraid of being drawn into an inescapable conversation with one of them without Irwin by his side. He knew he wasn’t stupid, but his choice of words would immediately peg him as an outsider. It wasn’t that he really cared what they thought of him, per se, but he was keen to avoid any awkward situations.

With that in mind, he slipped his hand into Irwin’s and gave it a squeeze, more to reassure himself than anything else. A server came by then, carrying a tray crowded with flutes of champagne, and Armin stopped him. “Thank you,” he said, offering a smile as he picked up one of the skinny glasses. The server gawked at him for a moment before giving a brief nod and hurrying off through the throngs of finely dressed people. “Everybody here is weird,” the blond mumbled as he took a sip of the fizzy alcohol.

“What did you expect?” Irwin asked him, sounding mildly amused when he coughed and shook his head. “Too strong?”

“A little. Jesus, this stuff must be expensive. What was that, like a thousand-dollar sip of champagne?”

“I’d imagine that’s a fair estimation,” a jovial voice said to his left. Armin nearly dropped the flute, stepping back when he noted the sudden proximity of the individual who had spoken. “Irwin,” the man said by way of greeting, all formality and shrewd observance. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Of course I did, Dallis. I wasn’t aware I had a choice in the matter,” was the CEO’s chilly reply. So this was the head of Titan Enterprises board of directors; Armin could sense the dislike emanating off of Irwin in waves, while Zacklay sported a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was like watching two brick walls duke it out, he thought.

The other man laughed as if Irwin had made a joke, reaching out to give the former marine an exaggerated slap on the arm, “Good man. I do believe introductions are in order, now. Who’s this young man?”

“Armin Arlert, sir,” the blond answered before Irwin could, holding his hand out to be shaken for the dozenth time that night. He wasn’t going to falter in front of somebody who was so obviously a thorn in Irwin’s side.

“Dallis Zacklay, my boy. And you’re Irwin’s…assistant?” the director asked, coldly polite.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Armin responded in kind. Zacklay’s grip on his hand was cool, and it tightened slightly before he let it go. The blond got the feeling that he was resisting the urge to wipe his palm off on something, and it gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction.

“Ah, Rivaille,” the old coot said, eyes latching onto a point over Armin’s shoulder. He felt Irwin’s hand come to rest there, and he leaned into the touch as Levi sidled up beside them, Petra on his arm. She looked bored, and Levi looked like Levi usually looked, though he was surprisingly not as drunk as Armin had thought he would be by now. Apparently the guy could hold his liquor.

“Dallis,” Levi sighed, “Of all the parties you’ve thrown, I’d have to say this one is the most dreadful of all.” Leave it to Levi to be a total dick. For once, Armin was at least semi-grateful for it. He would have liked to stay and watch the exchange for a while longer, but Petra suddenly unhooked herself from Levi and slipped behind him.

“Armin, come with me,” she whispered.

“Oh, um—,” he shot Irwin a quick look, and the older man pulled his hand away.

“Go on,” he said. There seemed to be an implied, “save yourself,” in the way he looked as Petra tugged Armin away by his hand. He nodded and drained the rest of his flute in one go, handing the empty glass to a surprised Levi as he was pulled away.

“You still happy you came?” Petra asked as she navigated through the crowd, moving purposefully around clustered groups of vapidly chatting men and women.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Armin said, and she shot him a grin over her shoulder. He was feeling a little off-kilter after shot-gunning that champagne. _Should have remembered I’m a lightweight_ , he thought giddily in the face of Petra’s smirking.

“Don’t be smart. I’ve been going to these parties my whole life, and trust me; they don’t get any less boring.” She spoke without lowering her voice, or seeming to care about the company they were in. Several people sent glares her way as she stopped in an open doorway and gestured to the left. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. I’ve been starving myself all week to fit into this stupid dress, so I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“That can’t be healthy,” Armin said, eyes dropping to examine her figure in a very clinical, concerned manner. He hated the way everybody made girls feel like they needed to be skinny in order to be pretty, the same way he hated it when people teased him for being so short and muscularly-challenged.

“Well, you’ve never met my mother. Trust me, ignoring her prodding is what’s _really_ unhealthy,” Petra said as she led him through yet another door, and into the most wonderful room he thought he’d ever seen. “ _Víola_. The kitchen,” she announced unnecessarily. There was a chorus clanging, hissing, beeping, and shouting, and a long table covered in trays of hors d'oeuvres. A server brushed past them, dropped an empty tray into a basket, and picked up a full one before hurrying back out the door.

“You know, women naturally store more body fat than men, so the whole idea that they’re supposed to be thin is just a plain biological fallacy,” Armin said as she attacked a plate of some sort of puffy pastry.

“You should come to dinner with my family sometime,” Petra said, sighing around a mouthful of confection. “My dad is always trying to use reason and logic to argue with my mother, but it rarely ever works.” Armin smiled as he reached down and idly plucked a devilled egg off a platter. He’d liked Petra right off the bat, and she hadn’t said or done anything yet to make him change his mind.

“Oh my God,” he said, “This is like…is this heaven? Did I die and go to heaven, and Jesus made this food?”

Petra giggled, and handed him another glass of sparkling liquid. “Eat as much as you want, sweetie. Lord knows Zacklay can afford it.” He did just that, following her lead as she picked over the trays, sampling a little bit of everything until the chef finally got sick of them and kicked them out.

“You got us in trouble,” Armin sniggered as they were ushered out of the kitchen.

“You were the one who wouldn’t stop asking if they had any _Gray Poupon_ ,” she said, imitating a bad British accent, “What’s wrong with you?” She was laughing, so he didn’t bother feeling offended by the question.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” the blond scoffed, “They just don’t appreciate my sense of humor.”

“Petra, darling!” a high, female voice rang out as they retreated from the kitchens.

“Oh, God, not now,” Petra groaned, ducking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. Armin looked around and found the source of the voice—a young woman was hailing the redhead, surrounded by a gaggle of other ladies, and they were fast approaching.

“Petra, where have you been all night?” the lead girl asked, completely ignoring Armin as she grasped Petra’s hand.

“Oh, around,” came the avoidant response. “Armin,” she said, latching onto his arm and pulling him close to her side, “This is Mina Carolina.” She made the rounds, pointing to each girl and rattling off a name that he stood no chance of remembering even ten minutes from now. “And this is Armin Arlert,” she finished, gesturing to him.

“Arlert,” Mina said, tapping a finger against her lip, “I don’t recognize the name.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. I’m not from some rich family,” he said, sounding too cheerful. There was another glass of champagne in his hand, though he wasn’t quite sure how it had gotten there. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”

“And who would that be?” another girl asked pleasantly enough. This one had a little bichon frise under her arm; he wrinkled his nose at the awful haircut for a moment before realizing he was being rude.

“Irwin Smith,” he answered, and the group fell silent, expressions ranging from horror to disbelief to misery flashing across their faces. Apparently they recognized _that_ name. Before any of them could properly react to it, though, he pointed to the bichon and said, “I’m sorry, but your dog’s haircut…where did you have it done?”

“I use a mobile groomer,” the girl said, looking startled, “Why?”

“Well, do they also do landscaping on the side, because it looks like they cut him with a weed whacker,” Armin told her.

He’d never seen anybody’s jaw drop in response to something he’d said before, and it would have been amusing if every other one of the young women hadn’t suddenly been glaring at him. “How…how do you know?” the poor girl asked, looking down at her dog with wide eyes.

“I’m a groomer. And I’m really good at it. See, look,” he said, gesturing at the dog’s head with a circular motion, “That’s not round. A bichon’s head is supposed to be _round_ , but they did like a…a weird poodle head on him. And his ears are too long, and look at his coat. They didn’t even fluff dry him.” He could hear the slight slur to his words, but nobody else seemed to notice, especially not the girl holding the dog.

“I’m…I’m calling Daniela first thing in the morning and giving her a piece of my mind!” she hissed, “You don’t have a card, do you? I can’t believe this! She said she did show-style grooming!”

“I didn’t bring any cards, but I can give you the number of the shop where I work,” he said. There was a flurry of movement and several of the girls had their phones out and at the ready. Well, Ymir was going to be happy at least. Her parade of rich clientele was finally about to begin.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he groaned a few minutes later, pressing a hand to his flushed face as Petra guided him through the rooms, pushing him from behind with her hands on his shoulders.

“Said what?”

“That her dog looked like he’d been cut with a gardening tool,” he snickered.

“You really have no idea what you just started,” Petra laughed into his ear, “These girls are nuts about their little doggies, and they’re always looking for new and exciting ways to show each other up.”

“Well I—Irwin!” He spotted his boyfriend across the room, and immediately turned toward him, pulling Petra along in his wake. When they emerged from the crowd she told him she was going to make sure Levi wasn’t drinking the wine cellar. He waved her off as he found that Irwin was engaged in a discussion with several men Armin hadn’t met yet. Without interrupting them, he edged up close and wrapped his arms around Irwin from the side, melting against him when the older man draped an arm across his shoulders without looking away from the current speaker.

“…next quarter should be interesting to say the least,” a tall, good-looking man was saying. Not as good-looking as Irwin, but not bad. Armin couldn’t believe they were talking about work when they were at a party. No wonder his boyfriend looked so bored.

“Hey, Irwin,” he hissed, leaning his head back as he older man looked down at him.

“Yes?” Irwin said, holding up an apologetic hand to the men he’d been speaking to.

“I have a joke for you,” Armin said, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “You wanna hear it?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No,” the blond said, staving off the twitching of his lips, “Alright. What do you call a phone line for cats?”

“I don’t know, what?” Irwin asked dryly, swirling the contents of the glass he was holding as he waited for the punch line.

“A _fe_ line,” Armin managed to say just before he gave in to an uncontrollable wave of giggles. Irwin blinked down at him, and then took up staring very pointedly at his glass. The men he’d been speaking to were looking at the blond like he had three heads. Well, screw them all, that joke was fucking funny. “Okay, okay,” he said once he’d regained some control over himself. “I’ve got another one. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay. So a man goes to the zoo, but the only animal there is a dog. It’s a shih tzu.” Silence greeted the end of the joke, and he let it stretch until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Get it? _Shit zoo_?” Once more, he was the only one who laughed, though he was pretty sure Irwin was just trying to save face if the dead serious look he was giving his glass of bourbon was any indication.

“Are you done?” the older man asked, arching a brow at his young lover.

“One more, alright?”

“If you must.”

“Okay,” he said, and this time he was already laughing, “So…so why is gay marriage even an issue?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“Because…,” he was having trouble speaking, “Because people are…people are fucking assholes!” And that was it. By the time he finished he was laughing so hard he didn’t think the words were even intelligible, but he didn’t care. He leaned his face into Irwin’s arm and laughed until he couldn’t breathe, clinging to his boyfriend as he shook with mirth.

“Armin, how much have you had to drink?” Irwin asked him, expression steely and firm in a way that told the blond he was having enormous difficulty not joining in. His colleagues on the other hand were looking back and forth between the two of them as if they were both out of their minds.

Still chuckling, Armin wiped tears from the corners of his eyes and said, “ _So_ much.”

“Do you think maybe you’ve had enough?”

“…Maybe,” the younger man admitted with a sly grin.

“Why don’t you go to bathroom and calm yourself down, then I can take you home,” Irwin suggested gently, expression softening.

“Why would I want to go home? It’s not even midnight,” Armin whined. “I want to kiss you at midnight in front of all these stuffed suits.” The scandalized looks he was given went ignored; the only reaction he cared about was that of his boyfriend.

Irwin sighed and excused himself from the discussion he’d been having as he lead Armin away through the crowded room and into a side hallway. “Armin, you’re drunk,” he said, settling his hands on the blond’s shoulders.

“ _You’re_ drunk,” Armin shot back at him childishly. “And it’s not my fault. I’m little and there’s a lot of booze here.”

Irwin shook his head, but he also graced the younger man with one of his gentler smiles. “I’m going to get you some coffee,” he said as he attempted to turn a teetering Armin back toward the kitchen.

“No, wait. I gotta pee,” the blond protested, pulling out of his grasp.

“Alright. Come find me when you’re done,” the older man said. He reached up to stroke his thumb across Armin’s chin, and the blond felt a familiar heat rushing to his cheeks. It was all he could do not to grab Irwin and drag him back into the bathroom with him. Even if he’d tried, he knew he was too tipsy to have been able to do much right then and there.

Just like everything else in the mansion, the bathrooms were excessively sophisticated. Armin was half-surprised that the toilets weren’t made of gold, but he figured he wouldn’t want to waste gold on a toilet a bunch of strangers were going to be using. _Stop thinking about golden toilets_ , he told himself as he splashed water on his face in the sink. There was a rattling, then a series of polite knocks on the door as he dried his face.

“Gimme a minute,” he grumbled, reaching for a mint on the tray beside the sink. He’d already had one after sucking Irwin off in the sitting room, and they were strong, so he thought they might clear his head a little. He tucked the mint into the corner of his mouth between his teeth and his cheek, then turned to open the door.

“Oh, pardon me,” the man on the other side said, hand raised as if he’d been about to knock again. Armin made to squeeze past him, but the man didn’t move, and he looked up to see he was being scrutinized for the zillionth time that evening. “Aren’t you Smith’s boy?” the man asked after a long, uncomfortable moment.

“If you mean Irwin, then yeah, I’m here with him,” Armin said, feeling a touch defensive.

“Ah, I’m afraid he neglected to introduce us,” he said, holding a hand out for Armin to shake, “Nile Dawk.”

“Oh, _you_ ,” Armin said, sounding a bit more discourteous than he’d intended. Oh well. If this guy was as big a fuck up as Levi said he was then Armin felt absolutely no obligation to be overly nice to him.

“You’ve heard of me?” Dawk said, looking irked by the blond’s tone.

“Yeah. Levi talks about you all the time,” Armin informed him, which he seemed to like even less.

“The midget, eh?” Dawk sneered, “It figures you’d take a liking to that crude little street rat. From what I’ve heard, you’re cut from the same cloth.”

“Pfft, okay Jafar,” Armin snorted, “Can I get by now?” Dawk moved, but not out of the way. Armin was forced to step back into the bathroom as the taller man moved forward, blocking his escape.

“I don’t know why Smith continues to keep the company of such…substandard creatures,” Dawk said, raising a hand over Armin’s shoulder and placing it against the wall, effectively trapping him there. “Clearly that incident in Iraq knocked a few screws loose.”

“Jealous much?” Armin sneered, more angry than afraid of him at this point. If the bastard tried anything he’d kick him in the crotch, then elbow him between the shoulder blades when he hunched over, like Mikasa had taught him to do.

“Hardly,” Dawk said, curling a lip back and regarding Armin as if he were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe, “Just confused as to why Smith so enjoys the attentions of gutter trash.” Armin’s back stiffened as Dawk leaned in a little more, bringing his face close enough that the blond could smell his sour breath. The hand on the wall slid down to rest on his shoulder, giving a little squeeze as he said, “He’ll get bored of you soon enough. Just like the others.”

He looked satisfied, watching expectantly as if waiting for Armin to wilt. “If you don’t get out of my face I’m going to punch you in the throat,” he snarled instead, taking the lanky man by surprise when he reached up and shoved him back. “And don’t ever fucking touch me again, you piece of shit!” Before Dawk could properly react, he pushed past him and bolted out the door and down the hall.

There was a room full of people ahead, and he slowed, feeling his heart pounding as he reached up to wipe away furious tears. “Don’t cry you fucking baby,” he muttered to himself, stepping unmindfully into the crowd as he tried to calm himself. A space opened before him, and he saw Irwin standing just a few feet away with a mug that was presumably filled with coffee. _I can’t let him see me all flustered,_ he thought, panicking as he backpedaled and spotted a set of glass doors on the other side of the room. Hoping that Irwin hadn’t seen him, he darted through the throng and pushed the door open as he stepped out into the night.

Outside the mansion it was freezing, which was probably why he was the only person on the veranda he now found himself on. Taking deep gulping breaths of the cold night air, he walked over to a stone railing and leaned his elbows against it, dropping his face into his hands as he tried to collect himself.

The sound of the door opening behind him made him jump, and without having to look he knew that it was Irwin. “Is everything alright?” he heard the older man ask.

“Yeah,” he said without turning around, hoping that his voice wasn’t shaking.

“Armin, are you crying?” _Shit_.

“No,” he said, voice angry and creaking. Irwin was beside him by then, and he turned his face away to hide the way his eyes were still watering.

“What happened?” the older man asked, and there was something in his tone that made Armin turn to look at him despite himself. He quailed slightly at the absolutely murderous look on Irwin’s face, only to watch it soften almost immediately as the older man reached up to press a hand to his flushed, wet cheek.

“N-nothing,” Armin lied, then, “It’s stupid.”

“If it were stupid you wouldn’t be crying about it,” Irwin reasoned, and he normally would have been right about that.

“Well, I’m drunk, and when I’m drunk I cry over stupid shit,” Armin said, though he admittedly felt a bit more sober than he had ten minutes ago.

“Did somebody say something to you?” Irwin asked softly, and Armin had to bite down on his tongue to keep from blurting out the truth. He could tell Irwin exactly what had happened, what Dawk had said to him, and then what? He would fire Dawk, probably, or maybe he’d do something a little more drastic. Either way, it would only cause him trouble. Levi had said that Dawk and the board of directors were friendly, and if he and Irwin were at odds who would they side with? He had no idea what sort of power they had, what they could do to Irwin if he caused a ruckus, and he had no desire to find out. Besides, he couldn’t go running to his boyfriend every time somebody said something mean to him. He wasn’t _that_ helpless.

“It was dumb. Don’t worry about it,” Armin said, wiping at his eyes and sniffling.

“Armin, tell me.”

“You’re not the boss of me. And it was just some stupid off-hand remark. There’s nothing you could really do about it now.” Finally, Irwin seemed to deflate. Or rather, he no longer looked ready to commit homicide, and he began wiping away the last telltale tears from the blond’s lashes.

“I’m sorry somebody made you cry, in any case,” Irwin said, “Whatever they said that upset you isn’t true in the slightest.” Even though he couldn’t have any idea as to what Dawk had said, the words did make Armin feel a bit better. Irwin had never done or said anything to him that made him feel inferior, as if he wasn’t good enough or worthy to stand by his side. The only reason he’d even been moved to cry was because he’d been furious at having his space invaded, and he didn’t exactly have many other outlets for his anger at hand. Fighting wasn’t his style, though he knew how to defend himself. Sure, Dawk’s words had carried a sting, but they hadn’t gotten to Armin in the way he’d probably been hoping they would.

“Irwin?” he said as the older man stroked a cold-reddened cheek.

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me.” There was no hesitation. Irwin bent to kiss him and he stood up on his toes, meeting him halfway. Tonight his lips were languid rather than greedy, catching Armin’s and moving chastely against them until the blond slipped his tongue out, asking for him to deepen it. Even then it was slow and gentle, their tongues sliding together warmly as Irwin held the younger man firmly against him. When they pulled apart, Armin settled back down on his feet and rested his head against Irwin’s chest. “Can we go home?” he asked. He wanted to be alone with his boyfriend now. Alone, and preferably naked.

Irwin seemed to have been waiting for him to ask, because he answered too quickly in the positive. “What about Levi and Petra?” Armin asked as they were retrieving their coats from the doorman. Irwin seemed reluctant to wait, but he called Levi’s phone, which the other man didn’t answer.

“We’ll wait half an hour. Then they’ll have to find their own way home.” When they reached the limo they found it unlocked but empty. The driver was missing, and Irwin surmised that he’d probably gone off to enjoy himself somewhere, probably assuming that he wouldn’t be needed again until well after midnight.

“So now what?” Armin whined.

“You wait inside. I’ll go find out where he is,” Irwin sighed, opening the limo door and gesturing for Armin to climb inside. The blond pursed his lips, then climbed in, grabbing Irwin’s hand as he went and dragging him in behind. “Armin, what are you—?” he asked, not fighting as Armin pulled him forward.

“Shut up,” the blond interjected, reaching behind him to pull the door shut. “Let’s have sex.”

Irwin regarded Armin with a look of incredulity as the blond dropped down onto the seat in the darkened interior, hunching down as he began to undo his belt. “Here?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“You realize I don’t just carry lube around with me everywhere I go, yes?” Irwin asked, sounding mildly amused as Armin struggled with his zipper.

“Well lucky for us, I do,” the blond said triumphantly as his zipper came undone and he began wiggling out of his pants. He paused just long enough to reach into his pocket and pull out a tiny bottle of lubrication and a strip of condoms, reaching out to stuff them into Irwin’s hand before the older man could object.

“Why would you…do I even want to know?” Irwin asked with a sigh.

“I wanted to make sure I was prepared. You’ve been such a stick in the mud about all this, I wanted to be ready to entertain you in any way possible.”

“I’m not having sex with you when you’re drunk, Armin,” he said, but the blond was deaf to his protests.

“I decided I wanted to have sex with you _waaay_ before I got drunk, and I’m not even that drunk anymore. Now fuck me so I can check ‘sex in a limo’ off my bucket list.” Okay, so maybe he was still pretty drunk, but he wanted to have sex with his boyfriend, and was that really so much to ask?

When Irwin continued to simply stare at him skeptically, Armin had no choice but to reach out and tug him forward by the cummerbund. He leaned up and kissed him on the jaw, slowly pressing his lips along the side of his face up to his lips as he sought entry into his mouth. Beneath him he could feel Irwin relaxing, caving in to his advances as usual. “You’re completely despicable, you know that?” the older man murmured as Armin continued to try to slip him the tongue.

“Uh-huh,” the blond agreed, reaching for the lube in Irwin’s hand as he sucked at his lips. He was impatient like he’d never been before, knowing that Levi or the limo driver could show up at any moment and ruin their fun. He sat back as he unscrewed the top off the bottle and tried to pull his slacks the rest of the way off at the same time.

A large hand closed over his, taking the lube away so that he could focus on one thing at a time. He had forgotten to take his shoes off, and it took him a minute of frustrated fumbling before he was finally naked from the waist down. “Are you done?” Irwin asked—he’d been watching with an openly humored expression, leaning his head into his hand as Armin struggled with his evening attire.

“Not yet,” the blond said, disregarding Irwin’s amusement as he slid down in the seat and pulled his legs up until his knees where touching his chest. With his ass completely exposed, it wasn’t exactly easy for Irwin to pretend like he didn’t know what he was waiting for. Releasing an indulgent huff, the older man leaned over to kiss him again, distracting him from the way his slickened fingers were traveling down the seam created by his thighs until they slipped against his entrance. “ _Mmmm_ ,” he moaned into the kiss, spreading his legs a little to give Irwin better access. He was rewarded with a solitary finger sliding into him right up to the knuckle and he made another sound of longing as his boyfriend pressed kisses to his face and neck.

“Put a condom on before you ruin your clothes,” Irwin whispered, both amused and enamored by the blond’s antics by this point. Armin realized he was already dripping, and did as Irwin said, fingers fumbling drunkenly as a second finger joined the first. He nearly couldn’t get it on, what with the way Irwin was teasing him, fluttering those fingers closer and closer to his prostate without actually touching it.

“Oh, God,” he whimpered, reaching between his legs to grip Irwin’s wrist shortly after he’d added a third finger. He could be a real bastard sometimes, twisting and curling his fingers in all the ways that drove Armin crazy. “Can you fuck me now, because I can’t—please, just—,” Irwin silenced his pleading with a kiss, and then he was sliding off the seat and kneeling between Armin’s legs.

“We don’t have much time until midnight,” the older man murmured as he rolled a condom along his own cock, “It’ll have to be quick.”

“Whatever, just do it!” Armin huffed impatiently. Set on being a teasing old man, Irwin tried to enter him slowly, to push in inch by agonizing inch, but the blond wasn’t in the mood for his stupid games. He was drunk and horny and he wanted to come before they got caught, so he wrapped his legs around Irwin's back and pulled him in as far as he could. That at least seemed to finally get the message across, and Irwin began moving rapidly, thrusting in and out of him with jarring force.

Armin could hear himself shouting, feel himself scrabbling for purchase on any available surface—one hand braced him on the seat behind his head, and one held onto Irwin’s arm. The man had him by the hips, was pounding down into him at the best possible angle. Apparently he really had meant it when he said he’d have to make it quick, and with his cock abusing Armin’s sweet spot the way it was he knew he wouldn’t last very long. Tonight there was no embargo on his own cock, and he released his grip on the older man to stroke himself, trying to time the movements of his hands to those of Irwin’s thrusts. Either he was too drunk or being fucked too hard, but he couldn’t keep an even pace and the dissonant pleasures made him cry out much more loudly than he was usually prone to.

At least he wasn’t the only one. For all Irwin’s protests, he was groaning and gasping, pushing Armin’s thighs further apart so he could go deeper and shuddering when the blond deliberately tightened around him. “Do that again,” he growled, and Armin complied. Making Irwin come again was the whole point, though that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy their lovemaking himself. He pushed his hips up and moved his hand faster, swallowing Irwin’s sounds of ecstasy when the older man leaned down to kiss him.

“Oohh, I’m-I’m,” he sobbed, and Irwin pumped into him all the faster. Shockwaves jolted up his spine and through his cock, his stomach tightened and he felt Irwin’s hips begin to stutter against his ass. He came into the condom, shouting his lover’s name and losing himself in the aftershocks as the older man finished inside of him, shuddering as he dropped forward whispering nonsense into his ear.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other and completely unmindful of the world outside the limo for the time being. When Armin began to float back down to reality, he felt his boyfriend pressing kisses to the side of his head and stroking his hair. He had pulled out, but he hadn’t made any other moves to disentangle himself, and now that it was over Armin wished he’d waited until they got home, if only so they wouldn’t have to let go of one another.

“Irwin,” he murmured, “we should…we have to,” he yawned around his words, feeling sleepy and sated as he wrapped his arms around the older man’s back.

“Alright,” Irwin agreed, making to push himself up, and freezing as they both heard the sound of the door handle clicking.

“Irwin,” Levi’s said from the darkness beyond as he leaned his head into the limousine, “Are you—oh, Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ, Smith! Do you have to fuck the kid on every goddamn available surface?” Armin felt his face burning with mortification as Irwin leaned over him, shielding him from Levi’s disgusted gaze.

“Levi, give us a moment, would you?” he asked, sounding much calmer than Armin felt. The perpetually irate man grumbled loudly, then stood back and slammed the door.

“Oh my God,” Armin groaned, covering his face his hands as Irwin removed both condoms, tying them off and tossing them into a tiny receptacle bin. “That was so embarrassing!” It was also his own stupid fault for being such a little horndog. _I’m never drinking again_ , he thought.

“Don’t worry,” Irwin said comfortingly, “Believe me—Levi could care less. He’s just worried about the cleanliness aspect.”

“But he saw my butt!” Armin cried, literally on the verge of drunken tears.

“You need to go to bed,” Irwin laughed softly, shaking his head as he handed Armin his underwear. An hour later he was doing just that, crawling into the king sized bed without bothering to remove his clothing. He was tired, and mad at Levi, and Dawk, and annoyed at Irwin who began undressing him against his will as he tried to fall asleep.

“You want to sleep in your clothes?” the older man asked when the blond tried to shove him away. After a moment of careful consideration, Armin decided that no, he did not. He pulled off the rental clothes Irwin had picked up for him last minute, and didn’t stop until he was completely nude.

“Hurry up and cuddle with me,” he demanded grumpily as he huddled under the covers. Irwin slipped into bed beside him a few minutes later, and he curled up against him with a contented sigh. New Year’s had never exactly been his favorite holiday, but it wasn’t the worst either. He’d missed the fireworks over the river, and watching the ball drop on T.V., but all in all it hadn’t been too bad. After all, he had managed to get both wasted and laid, and hopefully he would remember it all tomorrow. “Hey, Irwin,” he mumbled sleepily, fighting the urge to drift off as deft fingers carded through his hair.

“Mm?” the older man hummed in response.

“When you catch the person who’s been stealing from you, what are you gonna do to them?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because,” Armin said, tone soft and muttering, “I think when you catch them, you should make them suffer.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I think you should.” Armin couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he felt Irwin’s hand go still on his scalp.

“And why’s that?” the older man asked softly.

“Because you’re mine,” Armin murmured into his throat, “I don’t like it when people hurt what’s mine.”

“Neither do I,” was Irwin’s whispered response, but Armin didn’t hear him. In the seconds between their words, he had already fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case we forgot that Armin is stone cold. 
> 
> Thanks for reading my lovelies, and thanks for all your kudos and comments on this series! You're all so nice that sometimes I just don't even know what to say back to you. :D


End file.
